Why he loved her
by Casey Toh
Summary: One possible reason why Riddick would love Kyra romantically. One-shot. Rating for language.


A/N: Seeing all those Riddick/Jack/Kyra pairings, I was inspired to write one of my own, with a possible reason why Riddick would love Jack romantically (or something thereof) despite their age gap and gap in maturity level.

Disclaimer: Riddick, Jack, Fry and all other related characters belong to Universal. No intentional copyright infringement is intended through their use.

**Dedication:** To Colaine, who has been a source of inspiration and insights throughout our correspondances. It's been a great pleasure. :)

**Why he loved her**

Riddick watched her as she moved, her grey drab almost blending in with the slam walls. She didn't know that he was there, despite the Crematorium slam having been her home base for almost over a year: he had been living (and living in slams) far longer than she had, and he'd had more practice.

Word had been going around the slam that he was her lover ditched her and returned to take her away from this hell-hole. Oh, they don't say that directly to his face, or hers, but in the walls which enclosed so many of them, sometimes, the barest whisper bounced around and reached ears not intended for the news.

Now she was searching around some cranny, her dark eyes peering into the shadows beyond. At that distance, he couldn't see what was in there, even with his shined eyes, but he still watched her.

And then, from his perch, he saw a few other inmates approach her. For all he knew, they could've been part of the gang she ran with in this slam. But from what he knew, she ran with nobody. And he recognized the formative pattern the four men had moved in. He gave a smirk. That was his Jack. Took four men to even have the fuckin' courage to approach and ambush her like that.

He was proud of her.

But being proud didn't mean that she made no mistakes.

She didn't know that the men were there until one of them grabbed her arm and spun her around, grunting some profanity in greeting.

Kyra reacted instantly: her boot lashed out, and he saw a line of blood appear vertically on the man's body from his groin to his chest as he jerked himself away from her, twisting.

The other three lunged for her, one of them grabbing her arms from behind and pinning her back to his chest, as another man grabbed her ankles, careful to keep her bladed-boots away from him. The last was helping his wounded companion up.

"What? You get the four of you to come against me?" she challenged, spitting the words out.

"Shut yer fuckin' trap." There was a pause as they struggled with Kyra, who was twisting all she could to give them a hard time. "Let's get her away."

He decided to intervene. He had to protect her. He loved her. Because she was all he had left now.

"Oh, I wouldn't do that," he said in a deceptively innocent tone, giving them a way out, knowing they wouldn't take it.

"Shut up, Riddick," Kyra snarled. "I don't need your help."

He ignored her. For now, the men held his attention.

"You're new here. Better don't mess with us. You should know better."

He shrugged, but still stood there, being a hindrance, blocking their way out.

"You want a fucking shiv up your ass?" A man challenged him.

Kyra snickered, and was backhanded viciously. She grunted, spit out the blood, and glared at her captors.

"You're not afraid of just one man, are you?" He smiled softly, and that seemed so much a mockery to their courage that two men lunged for him.

From seemingly nowhere, a shiv appeared in Riddick's palm and he moved forward and sideways as one man neared. Blood gushed out as blade cut through inches of flesh from his waist to his back. Before the other man could react, Riddick had snapped his feet out in a kick that unbalanced the second even more, before he whirled around, grabbed the man's arm, and twisted it sharply, dislocating his elbow and shoulder simultaneously.

The screams soon died down to groans and moans as Riddick faced the one still holding Kyra. His eyes flicked to her, hidden by his goggles, checking to affirm that she was not hurt. He had a sudden urge to hold her in his arms just to feel her...feel Fry against him.

"You should take your wounded and leave." That was not a suggestion.

The last man glanced from Kyra, to his companions, to Riddick, and thought that leaving the girl to die at Riddick's hands was a better and wiser option. He quickly pushed her away, and went to drag his wounded and still groaning companions away as quick as they could.

"I didn't need your help." Her voice was tight, defiant, ashamed that he had seen her weak.

He moved closer. "Way I saw it," he growled, "you needed it."

She snorted, moving away from him, turning to go. He stopped her, pulled her to him.

Kyra gazed up, her face tight, her posture and muscles tensed, knowing that even though he wouldn't kill her, Riddick was unpredictable. But she was still surprised when he only pushed his goggles upwards, away from his eyes. Eyes that now stared almost tenderly at her.

He saw a hint of lightness in her dark eyes, a shadow of ghosty-blonde in her hair, the outlines of different angles in her face, and he saw Fry in her: in Jack--no, she was Kyra now. With her act of redemption six years ago, braving the darkness and the raptors, convincing him to return back for Jack and Imam, Fry had all but acknowledged Jack as her child, had passed her love and herself on to the young girl then.

And, loving Fry but never saying it, Riddick had also adopted her as his.

But Fry had gone and died, left him alone in this world. Now Imam had gone off and gotten himself killed by those fucking Necromongers. And Jack—Kyra was left to him. Fry's soul was left only in her.

He loved Fry. And that was why he had to love Kyra.

She could not die for him, _on_ him.

Not now.

Not ever.


End file.
